


you raise me up

by flappergirlsfolly



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, bard and dwalin are protective, fili doesn't know how to have feelings, sigrid is cool but slightly hysterical, slightly crackish, tilda and bain are menaces to society
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 02:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3191339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flappergirlsfolly/pseuds/flappergirlsfolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a story about sigrid's blood pressure</p>
            </blockquote>





	you raise me up

**Author's Note:**

> Five times the Durins scared Sigrid and the only time she scared one of them.

1.

Sigrid had just finished the dishes when Da came trampling inside.

“What’s the matter?”

“Get down to the cellar- and for god’s sake, get those clothes we were going to put in the charity bins.”

Tilda and Bain (who had for once in their life been doing something amiably) looked up from the living room rug as their father disappeared down the stairs in a swish of coat tails.

The siblings paused for a moment before following after him.

“What are you doing?” Bain begged.

“I think the raccoon down there died, Da! Don’t open the-“

Instead he threw the hatch door back, and a bearded man with a tattooed head slowly rose out of it.

“Are they going to bring us luck?” Tilda asked, as the band of inexplicably hairy men paraded past them into their home, most with friendly smiles of greeting as if this were perfectly normal.

“Sigrid, clothes!” Da barked, and she scampered back up the stairs.

True, most of them looked slightly less savage when they had neatened up in the downstairs bathroom and changed into Da’s holey old fleeces, but that didn’t stop them doing whatever it is they were doing.

Da had not afforded a word of explanation, instead spending the better part of an hour arguing with the scarily quiet one in a corner. They had just come upstairs and made themselves perfectly at home at the kitchen table and on the sofa- a few of them were playing Mario with Bain and one man in a hat with ear flaps was whittling a little toy aeroplane for Tilda while he chatted amiably to her.

Sigrid was supposed to do her reading for class tomorrow and then go to bed, not bury herself between the beam and the kitchen bench and watch thirteen weirdly short men just take over her entire house-

“Chamomile tea?” One of them materialized out of nowhere bearing a tray and her mother’s teapot, taking Sigrid so off guard that she screamed.

 

2.

Two weeks later, they learned that the Durin Clan had taken back their land from Smaug’s executors, occupying enemy gang territory upon the day of the land’s sale and emerging victorious.

It was very nice of them to make up for the Bargeman family’s hospitality, seeing as though they had a whole metalworks plant and trading empire to resurrect. They’d been over a few times since, unblocking the chimney and fixing the plumbing (as well as removing the dead raccoon from the cellar), and Dori had helped Bain to make a papier-mâché volcano while Kili had run up and down the street giving Tilda piggy back rides.

(It was even a little bit sweet, but Sigrid would never admit that)

Until Saturday morning.

She woke up early and spent an hour making pancakes, shouting at the kids and scrubbing the pan clean while they watched Spongebob with dazed expressions on their faces. (At least they weren’t flicking food at each other)

When the sink was drained and the benches all wiped down, she almost collapsed against the counter and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. It came away sticky with pancake batter, and Sigrid groaned.

Dodging around the pots that collected rainwater (Da promised he’d do more than fling a tarp over the roof when he got some leave) she stomped up the stairs and stepped into the tub.

As always, it calmed her, letting the water run through her hair and listening to it rain down on the enamel at her feet (even if the drain was blocked again).

She was slightly more content when she stepped out of the tub, groping blindly for a towel that she could scrub her face dry with, when she looked around.

Fili was frozen in mid-climb, hefting a gun of roof tile silicon and as he stared at her between rungs of the ladder. 

Sigrid paused, and then screamed. 

 

3\. 

She had hidden in her bedroom for the better part of that morning, attempting to drown her mortification behind her dark purple curtains. 

Sigrid prided herself on being very good in a crisis, hence why Bain still had his left pinky toe after that time that he had been pestering her in the kitchen and the knife had slipped out of her hand when she was using her arms to make her point. 

But the Durins must think her hysterical, because all she seemed to do around them was screech like a banshee. 

(Though it was kind of their fault for invading her privacy every other day)

And she was sure- certain- that what had happened with Fili had been an accident. After she had shrieked in Dori’s face that night when he tried to offer her a cup of tea, she and Fili had sat down and ended up talking. He certainly seemed nice enough (among other things- oh _god_ he’d seen her _naked_ ). 

“Si-ig,” Tilda singsonged through the door. “Bain offered everyone tea but we can’t figure out how to make the stove work.” 

She buried her face in her knees to muffle her groan, and then crawled out from under her desk. 

“I’m coming!” she shouted, glancing quickly in the mirror to make sure that every feasible piece of skin was clothed, before boldly opening her bedroom door. 

Bain was nowhere to be seen, thank heavens, as she reached for the matches to light the cooker. As the kettle whistled she clambered up onto a stool and found the fruitcake she’d made a few days earlier, slicing it up and arranging it neatly on a plate. 

In some ways she resented falling into the role of housewife-mother-woman-in-the-kitchen, but with Da absent and Tilda being six years old and Bain a menace to society, it was really the best option. 

“Tilda, how many people are there?” she shouted, letting lemonade glug into a plastic pitcher. She received no response, and rolled her eyes, reaching for a stack of plastic cups. They knew where everything was anyway; if they were missing anything they could bloody well get it themselves. 

She loaded it all precariously onto a tray and managed to get it all safely outside- 

No, Sigrid didn’t care what those goddamn Durins thought of her. If an arrow flies a hair’s breadth past her nose and thuds into the wall of the house beside her, she will scream. 

 

4\. 

This one was definitely Sigrid’s fault. 

She shouldn’t have asked Tauriel for advice on acceptable date wear anyway, though the internet had been less than sufficient and unnecessarily sexual. 

Tauriel had smiled widely and been more than charming as she and Tilda sat on Sigrid’s bed and helped her choose an outfit, quite understanding of Sigrid’s lack of time to really date before this and having no mother to run things by. 

Dwalin and Kili and Fili had been in the front yard with Bain (which was now sporting newly planted shrubbery and actually green grass) teaching him how to wrestle. After severe promises to the three males that under no circumstances was Tilda to be made victim to these moves, and that it weaponry was to be used in the immediate vicinity of the house that every single occupant must be made plainly aware, of course. 

“We’re done when you are.” Tauriel called down to them from Sigrid’s bedroom window. 

“What does your father think of this young man, Sigrid?” Kili had enquired with his schemey grin that made the hair on Sigrid’s neck stand up. 

Fili busied himself retying the laces on his boots. “Da’s been on a run for most of this week, he hasn’t met Rob yet.” 

“You can’t step out with a fellow without your father’s say so.” 

“Thank you for your concern, Dwalin, but as this isn’t 1950 I shan’t worry about Da’s approval on boys I _step out_ with.” 

He’d tilted his face downward and huffed. 

She should have known that something was wrong then. 

Rob was as cute as he’d ever been when he came to the door, grinning and kissing her on the cheek as she hurriedly closed the door behind her so that her siblings wouldn’t say anything embarrassing. 

And then he’d turned around right into Dwalin’s folded arms. 

“Hello there young Rob,” he rumbled, “and what are your intentions with Miss Sigrid this evening?” 

“Oh my god.” She muttered. After they’d escaped Dwalin they met Balin at the gate, who warned Rob jovially to have her back by eleven. 

“Do you have gay grandparents?” Rob whispered. 

“Ew! They’re brothers, you ass.” She teased, ignoring Bifur and Nori who waved to them from their car as it trundled alongside them. 

She saw Thorin and Bilbo approaching in the diner, and wasn’t startled when Thorin suddenly leaned over her shoulder and began eating half her dinner to see if Rob had drugged it as Bilbo began a lively conversation about fly-fishing. 

By the time they got to the cinema, she was actually expecting Kili and Tauriel to reach over the seats behind them and offer them popcorn. 

“I am… _so_ sorry.” She said, brushing some hair off her face as they stood on her front doorstep (pointedly ignoring Balin sitting on the bench and noting how many minutes left until eleven o’clock). 

“Yeah,” he laughed. 

“They’re an invasive family in themselves, and when I mentioned Dad hadn’t met you they sort of… absorbed me. Actually, come to think of it, I think they already had.” 

“Oh, that’s, uh, cool.”

“I’d invite you in, but my siblings are probably still awake. I told them to be in bed by nine, but they’re kind of spirited.” 

“That’s fine.” He assured her, probably a little too quickly, but his lips looked so soft and so nicely shaped that she barely had a moment to examine his face he was before leaning in- 

The door ripped open, and she was too busy screaming to answer Ori’s question as to how the stove worked. 

 

5\. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry about that whole date thing, last month.” 

“That’s fine. Really. You didn’t even do anything.” 

“Oh, no I wasn’t- they wanted to for- hm.”  Fili cleared his throat and glanced away, and for half a moment she thought he might have coloured slighty. It was impossible to tell in the half-light and with his beard. “If he got scared off by creepy dudes stalking us all evening, I don’t know how he’d have stood Bain and Tilda.” She continued to break his unease. 

He laughed and clambered over the arm of the sofa, sitting opposite her. “Definitely not good enough for you, then.” 

She wished she had the advantage of the beard. 

“So living by yourself is going okay?” 

“You’re literally here at midnight because I thought the place was haunted.” 

“It’s Durin’s code. Never leave a man behind or alone with the undead.” 

“Well thank you again.” 

“Any time, love.” 

She hated the way he called her _love_. It was so… cute. 

Idiot. 

“So what do you do at midnight on a Saturday?” 

“Knit and regret my life decisions. Or in hauntings, play Monopoly.” 

He’d gotten weirdly excited about the four boxes of novelty Monopoly Da had insisted she take when she moved out, and after about half an hour’s worth of deliberation they’d settled on the Barbie edition. 

“Bain was going through a phase!” she giggled, as he helped her to light candles so they wouldn’t ruin their eyesight during this creepy-ass brown out. “I wish they’d had this when I was little.” 

“You were a Barbie person?” 

“Oh yeah. I used to make them super spy around the house until I grew out of them and gave them to Bain.” 

“What about Tilda?” 

“She left them on the heater vents and they melted. She hated them.” 

“No way! Kili used to pull the heads off our cousin Poppy’s and I’d spent hours sticking them back on.” 

“It’s easy enough to get the head on when you get the knack of it.” She said, and doubled back in surprise when they both made the same action and sound effect with their hands. 

“Just like that.” He agreed, looking away again. 

She woke up as light began to filter in between the chinks in the living room curtains, and for the first time in her life, she woke up in a man’s arms. 

Never minding that they were both fully clothed and she trusted him what was probably a disproportionate amount for the time she had known him, she screeched and rocketed into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. 

 

+1 

“Where are they?” Fili shouted as he wandered out of the study where they were watching Doctor Who. 

“Try the top cupboard.” She replied, pressing pause and waiting for him to come back with the biscuits. 

Standing up and stretching, she wandered over to the window. Their friendship had continued after she had torn herself screaming from the sofa mainly for Bard’s peace of mind. Sigrid was perfectly content to hide from mortification and never see Fili again, but her father had become quite distressed to think that something that happened between his daughter and “that hairy knobhead”, so she tried to best to act like nothing at all had. 

She gazed at the chain link fence with the little stripe of greenery running along it, watching after Kili and Bain as they OO7’d their way around the house with their bows. 

(She had no idea what they were meant to be shooting at, but it made them happy) 

“Which top cupboard?” Fili yelled from the kitchen. 

“Not the one over the stove.” She called back, crossing the room as Fili made his way back to the study. And then her brother shot her through the open window. 

Fili, it transpired did not scream like Sigrid did. He bellowed profanities and knocked furniture over. 

He was by her side in a heartbeat, eyes wide as he nearly hyperventilated. 

“BAIN!” she shouted. “I SAID NO ARCHERY IN THE HOUSE!” 

Wrenching the arrow out of the wallpaper where it had pierced her t-shirt and hoodie and burrowed itself in the wall, she brandished it menacingly until he ran bawling out of sight of the house, Kili following him hastily. 

“Why are you panicking? I’m the one who nearly got impaled.” She joked soothingly as Fili grabbed her waist as if to make sure she was all there. 

“If that had been an inch to the left-“ 

“Don’t worry about ifs.” She chided. “It didn’t- hey, it’s okay.” 

Without thinking, she rested a hand on the side of his face, the other over the thick fingers at her hip. 

Their bodies were so close that she could feel his body heat radiating through her jumper, and with the tiniest of movements their foreheads were resting against each other. His long hair tickled her face slightly, pale blue eyes boring into her own, raking her face. 

“Screw it,” she muttered. “Should we just go out?” 

“Will you scream if I kiss you?” 

“I think I’m done screaming for the next eighty years. _Love_.”


End file.
